


Ever After

by Somebodys_No_One



Series: Not Like That [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Complete, Itacest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:44:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somebodys_No_One/pseuds/Somebodys_No_One
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fratello, France asked me if we were doing incest. What's incest, is it a game?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ever After

“Ve, fratello, Big Brother France was teaching me.”

Romano looked up to see his younger, excited brother running towards him. Romano let out a long sigh; he knew it had been a bad idea to let Italy go off with France alone.

Romano was glad that they had been getting along better now these days; sharing a house would do that to you. They didn't fight as often and Romano had once gone ten minutes without insulting Germany, it had ended in a fist fight and it had only been that one time, but still.

Secretly, Romano was jealous of the Potato Bastard, after all he was closer to his brother than he was and they weren't related. Sure, maybe growing up apart had something to do with it, along with the fact that he was not big on physical affection, which was basically all his brother knew.

Romeo frowned and carefully pried his brother off, taking his hands and forcing the hyper Italian to sit on the couch.

“France was talking about love,” Italy said bouncing slightly; he gave a small frown, eyebrows creasing with the effort. “Fratello, what is incest? France asked me if we were doing incest. What's incest? Is it a game?”

Romano paled, eyes widening, he cursed under his breath before adding, “Stupid frog.” He paused and looked at his brother who was watching him expectantly. “Ah, well fratello, I’ll tell you later. Let’s go make some pasta, si?”

“Si, fratello, let’s a go,” Italy cheered softly and hopped up to heat the stove.

Romano let out a light sigh; perhaps his brother would forget the foolish Frenchman's words. That would be better, for all of them.

“Here, help me set the table,” Romano said. He chose the correct place settings and two glasses and set them on the table. He paused, craning his neck as he heard the clatter of dishes falter and end followed by a loud noise. He followed the hallway to the kitchen. “Fratello, what's the matter?” Romano frowned when there was no reply and then he noticed his brother's slightly shaking figure. “Fratello?” he bit his tongue harshly, to stop a curse from sliding out.

His brother was bleeding, long scrapes and cuts trailing down his arms and back. The shards of a glass dish danced across the floor. Romano guessed that it was the reason red was spreading across his brother's clothing like wildfire.

“Ve!” Italy squealed, turning quickly, throwing his arms about himself in an attempt to hide the wounds.

Romano crossed the room in three quick strides, forcing his brother's arms away and studying the long cuts. He forced a tight smile onto his face that despite recent efforts still looked and felt extremely out of place.”Fratello,” he caught his brother's chin and lifted Italy's face so that their eyes met. “Let’s get you fixed up, okay?”

The silence filled the room as they sat on the couch, Romano's hands flying skillfully over the bandages. He knew that Italy could have taken care of them himself; after all both of them had been in the mafia. However, Romano was going into overprotective older brother mode and his instincts were screaming. Besides that, his brother didn't seem to mind.

“Romano, what does it mean?” Italy's voice was barely above a whisper. “France only laughed.”

Romano flushed, knowing that his brother would not stop until he got the answer. Despite how he appeared in other countries' eyes, Romano knew that his brother was smart, cunning and fierce in battle, this of course, did not change the fact that he hated fighting. Romano and Italy knew that they were not useless; this was in fact how they chose to appear. Pride was sacrificed so that their people's blood would not. All of this in mind, Romano turned and asked, “Feliciano, are you sure you want to know?”

“Lovi,” Italy whined, giving is brother puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Romano sighed, throwing his arms up, “Fine you idiota, I’ll tell you. It’s when. . .” Romano leaned closer to his brother and whispered the rest of the sentence in his ear.

Italy, as expected, backtracked almost instantly, blushing a deep red at his brother's words. He pulled away from his brother with a disbelieving, “Ve, but fratello!”

Romano finished wrapping his brother's arms and moved to his back and shredded shirt. He pulled the strands up without any fanfare, studying the long cuts that ran along his back. Without too much thought, especially concerning the new information in his brother's mind, Romano began cleaning the gashes, running the damp, soapy cloth over the affected area.

“Ve fratello, we-we don't do what France talked about, right?” Italy questioned softly, his cheeks dusted faintly pink at the thoughts that came unbidden to his mind.

Romano blushed. “No Feliciano, we don't. I love you, but not like that, never like that.”

Italy smiled, leaning into his touch. “Ti amo fratello, ti amo.”

Romano smiled, trailing feather-light 'get better' kisses down Italy's back frowning when he realized that not all of the cuts were new. Some, he realized as his lips traced the lines were older and scabbed. He felt Italy shiver under his touches as he worked his way down his spine.

Awkward to anyone who did not know the hyper, affectionate, but shy Italian, Romano was strangely okay with his brother's request. Of course, most wounds his brother received weren't trailing down his back, but he still felt inclined to keep his promise, even if it was embarrassing.

Due to the fact that karma hated him, the door then began to shake as someone used a house key.

Italy flushed, taking his shirt and quickly pulling it over himself. The fact that he was now covered did nothing to the blush on his face or the fact that they were sitting extremely close.

“Get away from me,” Romano growled. “Before they come in. Chances are they will find this very suggestive.”

Italy nodded, pulling away from his brother. This only caused both of their curls to pull, their faces lighting up brightly in response.

The door opened to reveal France, in all off his cloaked and smirking glory. His eyes traveled to their positions, close; to their faces, bright red. “Ah, mes chéris,” he grinned widely with an airy laugh, raising his eyebrows pointedly. “Looks like Big Brother France was right, oui?”

“Get out,” Romano roared, only adding an angry sense of realism. “You ass, get out of my house. Get out of my house you bastardo idiota.”

“Of course, mon cher,” France promised with a wink. He shut the door behind him, smirking.

Romano turned to face his brother, bright red and blushing. “Hey,” he smiled and lifted his brother's chin so that Italy's eyes, which had been facing the ground were now even with him. “Don't mind that idiota fratello.”

Italy pulled away from his brother. “I bet he'll tell all the others. They'll think we've been hiding it since our unification.”

Romano colored. “I thought we weren't going to talk about that anymore. All we did was get a tiny bit wasted-” at this, Italy shot his brother a look, “Okay, okay, maybe I was totally wasted. Still all we did was hold hands a bit. And then France gets this pervy idea. I still can't believe he waited this long to ask you,” Romano ranted, letting a childish pout grace his lips.

Italy yawned. “Fratello, what will we tell them?”

Romano sighed. “I have no idea, that Stupid Frog is so good at twisting words, he'll make it believable, I'm sure,” Romano paused when he realized that his brother was no longer paying any attention.

“Ve, pasta,” Italy mumbled into his brother's shoulder, snuggling closer and wrapping his brother's waist with a vice-like grip.

Romano colored even deeper red. Carefully, he attempted to untangle his brother and escape. However he found that he could not move from the couch without awakening him. Romano sighed deeply and shifted his brother weight slightly; it seemed he'd be here for a while.

* * *

“I swear mom cheri, it's true,” France promised, looking out at the gathered countries.

“Bloody git,” England barked “No one is going to believe your ridiculous story. This is Italy we're talking about, remember? He doesn't get half of what we say. There's no way that he'd do that.”

“But I saw them, you're just too blind to love, it blossoms any and everywhere,” France said, fanning at his face dramatically.

Germany gave a deep sigh, knowing that if he didn't do something soon, they'd be at each other's throats, again. “Enough France, why did you call us here? Zhis is none of our business und even if it was, vell, what they do in their love life, is their choice. Not ours.”

“Ah, but Germany, for zheir love to flourish, zhey must accept it. Zhe mere fact that they're 'iding it, shows that they don't accept it. They must be open about their love. This is why we must show them that we accept them. They will feel less worried and come out about it. Right 'Ungary?”

“Oh yes, Ita-kun must feel perfectly at ease. I wouldn't want him to afraid of our judgment,” Hungary agreed. “We'll all try our best, won't we?” She held her frying pan up a bit, daring someone to speak. No one did.

* * *

It was a few days later when any of the secretly gathered nations had any chance to talk to either of the Italy brothers. Since France's 'discovery', both had been staying home.

“Germany!” Italy opened the door to let his best friend in. “I made pasta! Would you like some? I didn't know you were coming over today.”

“No, it's okay,” Germany assured his friend. “Ah, Italy, is your brother home?”

“Hm? Fratello? No, he's visiting Spain. Why did you want to talk to him?” Italy asked bringing him a drink.

“No Italy, I don't. I actually want to talk to you.”

“Okay!” Italy said cheerfully, sitting down next to him. He folded and placed his hands in his lap, turning a bright innocent gaze on him. “What did you want to talk about?”

Germany opened his mouth, his words faltering. He had originally come to discuss the whole 'relationship' thing with him, but now he wasn't sure he really wanted to go there. “Ah, well, you see Italy, France, uh, well; he saw something the other day and. . . Well Italy, I just want you to know, no matter what gender you love or who you love, I will always be here for you.”

“Ve, Germany?” Italy frowned, looking at his friend. “Why would you say that?”

Germany flushed red, feeling the blood rush to his face. he put a hand on Italy's shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Italy,” he said calmly, “I know you love you brother, more than you should.”

* * *

“¡Ah, mi tomate, hola! Por favor, come in,” Spain grinned and held the door open for the dark-haired Italian on his doorstep.

“Shut up,” Romano grumbled. “And I don't speak your damn Spanish,” Romano reminded him stepping inside anyway.

Spain did not reply and merely ushered him inside to the living room.

Romano sat on the leather loveseat and pulled his legs closer, tucking them under his chin. He expected the Spaniard to sit down and start chattering in a rapid mix of Spanish and English. He did not expect his former guardian to sit down across from him and fix him with an almost frightful look.

“Roma, look at me,” Spain said, a harsh command in his normally cheerful tone that made Romano actually listen to him for once. “Listen Roma,” Spain said, ignoring Romano's protesting glares. “France told me what you and Italy were doing the other day.”

Romano opened his mouth to tell him off, but was cut off quickly.

“And I won't judge you for it, as long as you're both happy. I don't care Romano; there was never anything to worry about, vale? Boss Spain will always love you, no matter what.”

Romano opened his mouth, his face flushing as red as the tomatoes, he and Spain both loved.

* * *

“Germany, where did you get that idea? Fratello and I aren't. . .” Italy's face blushed brighter at the mere thought. “That's just. . .” Italy trailed off, clearly very flustered.

“Ah,” Germany felt the blood rush back to his face as he came to the conclusion that he was very wrong and whatever happened the other day had certainly not been the way that France had described it. “Well, I guess, Italy that I got carried away. France td us the other day, that well, you and your brother had a thing. I had never really thought about it and I guess that Hungary's rants grow on everyone after a while. I made the wrong conclusion after rushing the fact. I'm sorry.”

“Ve, Germany, it's okay. I forgive you,” Italy said giving his friend a sunny smile.

* * *

“Sp-Spain,” Romano sputtered. He felt his face heat up and he gave Spain a nasty look. “That's . . . how could you? My own brother, mio fratello! Chigi, ugh, I can't believe you.”

Spain raised his hands in defeat, but otherwise did not look all that apologetic. “Lo siento, Roma,” Spain said with a smile, moving and clapping him on the back, nearly knocking him over.

“Say, Spain, where'd you get this idea anyway?” Romano asked.

“Mi amigo, Francia, he came in the other day rambling about your 'love' for each other. of course, I didn't know what to think, but figured that I should at least talk to you about it.”

“Talk? You came in very nearly accusing me of it,” Romano reminded him with a huff. “Still, I forgive you, that idoita France is a different story through.”

Spain's smile widened. “Tell me, what can I do to help?”

* * *

“Ve, fratello, are you sure?” Italy asked. He watched his brother with slightly wide eyes.

His brother smiled, running a hand along his cheek, causing the other to shiver. “Si, I'm sure. The others know; why can we not be open about such things now?”

Italy closed his eyes and leaned into the other's touch, feeling strong arms wrap around his waist and pull him towards the bed. “Mm, fratello,” Italy murmured against his brother's shoulder allowing Romano to push him to the bed.

* * *

France was walking the halls, minding his own business when he heard some very familiar sounds coming from a closed door on the right.

“Lo-Lovino!” a distinctively Italian voice purred. It was followed by the creaking of bed springs

There was another voice, barely above a whisper that murmured. “Feliciano.”

France let a smirk settle on his face; it seemed that Big Brother France was right, again.

* * *

Inside the bedroom, Romano was giving his brother a nearly identical smirk. “That ought to teach him to meddle,” he said to his brother who sat next to him, engrossed in a book.

Italy gave an absent-minded nod. “Yeah, it should,” he agreed.

Romano let a sleepy smile cross his face before his mind flashed back to the scars on his brother's back. “Say, fratello, where'd you get those?”

Italy locked eyes with his brother before answering, “Those? They're from the mafia days. No biggie.”

Romano smiled, pulling his brother closer to read the book over his shoulder. “And they lived happily ever after,” he read slowly.

“Ve, fratello, do you think we'll live happily ever after?” Italy asked.

“Yeah Feliciano, we will,” Romano said. “We will.”


End file.
